Divination
by foggraven
Summary: Who better to teach Divination than the Seer of Light?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: May leave this a oneshot, but I would like to continue with it. Updates will in all probability be slow and infrequent. Any idea's or suggestions for where to go with the story from here would be greatly appreciated. It kind of just popped into my head and I just really wanted to write this scene, but I don't really know where I'm going to go from here.**

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><p>Professor Umbridge was standing stock-still, staring at Dumbledore, who continued to smile benignly at her.<p>

"And what," she spoke in a whisper that nevertheless carried all around the entrance hall, "are you going to do once I appoint a new Divination teacher who requires lodgings?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem," Dumbledore answered pleasantly. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and she will prefer lodgings elsewhere."

"You've found — ?" said Umbridge shrilly. "_You've_ found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Twenty-two—"

"— the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if — and only if — the headmaster is unable to find one," finished Dumbledore.

"And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"

He turned to face the open front doors, through which night mist was now drifting. Coming through the mist Harry _felt_ more than heard a faint whispering that made him think of dark places and the coiling and undulating of great tentacled monstrosities. It felt like the echo of something terrible and great that still lingered, the way a building might be _scarred_ by an unspeakable atrocity that had been committed there. There was a shocked murmur around the hall and those nearest the doors hastily moved even farther backward, some of them tripping over in their haste to clear a path for the newcomer.

Through the mist came a figure Harry had never seen before: Small, slight looking, with white-blond hair; what was visible of it hidden under the strange curling hood that covered her face, lips painted black and pale skin. She wore strange exotic orange clothing emblazoned with a large symbol across her chest reminiscent of a sun. Her very presence seemed otherworldly and she exuded an almost tangible sense of mystery about her.

What caught everybody's attention though was that she was floating several feet above the ground.

"This is Rose Lalonde," announced Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find her quite suitable."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Special mention to Prucanisthewaytogo for all your input and help, thank you so much. The amount of interest this tiny little thing generated was overwhelming, so to everyone who noticed this little ficlet thank you, you're great. **

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><p>Rose Lalonde.<p>

She was a mystery to the whole school, but somehow Harry got the impression that was how she liked it. In any case she seemed to be amused by it all.

Professor Lalonde seemed to possess a talent for her subject in a way Trelawney never had. Those who had had a lesson with her left convinced of her abilities, even the ever sceptical Hermione, having curiously sat in on one of her lessons had agreed, even if only tentatively that Professor Lalonde seemed to be the real thing. Parvati and Lavender in particular were as enamoured with her as they had ever been with Trelawney.

Curiously, Rose as the other professors called her, also possessed a strange talent for making all kinds of things appear and reappear without a wand, much to the bafflement of the castle's general populous.

In addition to her aptitude at divination and making things vanish only to be popped back into existence at the drop of a hat, the woman possessed a truly prodigious vocabulary, sprouting words with ease that even Hermione didn't know the meaning to without having to look them up.

Hermione herself seemed to look up to the older women and took every opportunity to interact with her having even rejoined their divination classes on occasion.

It was not only the students who she affected but the ghosts as well. They appeared to venerate and stand in almost fearful awe of her in equal measure. Peeves, causing trouble as usual had actually apologised to the new professor after one look from those lavender eyes as she found her way blocked by the commotion he'd caused.

When Nearly Headless Nick was questioned about it the Gryffindor ghost mearly shook his head and smiled cryptically, "She knows the secrets of the dead, she is one of us, yet greater than all of us here."

Then, smiling, "At divining the most favourable outcome, there is no one better than a Seer of Light."

The trio had shared curious looks at his words. They spent long days discussing and trying to find out more about the mysterious Divination teacher who, even Hermione had had to agree, appeared to posses true ability in the subject.

Sometimes, late at night while the rain was pouring outside and the sky lit with lightning her violin; as elegant and mysterious looking as she, could be heard playing a haunting refrain.

The castle became filled with a faint music as ethereal as the void. Finely crafted notes sung of innumerable, unknowable unspeakable, horrors, of the loss of loved ones and the memories of the dead. It was beautiful and haunting, but cold and unearthly.

Like phoenix song it echoes throughout the castle, and the castle seems to _shudder_.

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><p><strong>AN: Most chapters will probably be short drabbles. The disappearing and repapering of items mentioned is due to her use of her Fetch Modus. Rose died to ascend to godtier and has interacted frequently with dreambubbles and the dead, so this is where the thing with the ghosts comes from.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: A lot of you liked the thing about the ghosts which was pleasantly surprising. I spent the time writing this listening to Homestuck for the Holidays, in particular Carolmanthetime and Candlelight. So without further adieu I wish you a happy Christmas or for you trolls out there 12th perigee's eve.**

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><p>You are now Rose Lalonde, Seer of Light, you are currently the divination teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you're not really sure why, but you always did have a thing for wizards. You possess a fondness for sarcasm and psycho analysis as well as a passion for obscure literature and 'creative writing', about which you are very secretive.<p>

The most important person in your existence is your Matespirit, Kanaya Maryam who you once confessed to drunkenly before promptly falling down a flight of stairs.

You also have an ecto-brother named Dave who likes Apple juice and has a crippling fear of puppets and their plush rumps and phallic proboscises which he sometimes gets buried under.

While on the Subject of relations, you think it's also worth noting you're dancestors Dirk and Roxy and their pre-scratch selves.

Speaking of...

Everyone in the hall is currently looking at you. It's not something that makes you feel that uncomfortable but nevertheless it's slightly irksome. Your post scratch ecto mother-daughter dancestor always did have great timing; In fact it was something that seemed to run in the family, what with Dave being a time player and the rest of them always choosing the worst or best times to show up.

OxOx

xOxOx

They are sitting at breakfast when it happens.

A strange wall made of what looks like metal and glass but definitely isn't, pops into existence in the middle of the Great Hall, floating unsupported.

Displayed across all four faces are the words: pre-recorded message.

Subsequently, after several moments have past and everyone is now gazing at the object and the words it is showing, the four sections of glass light up revealing the image of a women the same age as professor Lalonde with whom she shares a startling resemblance, though her eyes unlike the professor's are a vibrant shade of pink rather than lavender.

Harry is surprised to realise that what he is looking at is a screen. Electricity does not work at Hogwarts and he'd never been one for television or computers. Whatever this device is though it seems to be functioning perfectly.

Looking to the teacher's table where the strange device is aimed at Harry sees the professor in question sighing while delicately pinching the bridge of her nose a resigned look on her face, as though this is a common occurrence for her.

To the shock of everyone in the hall the women moves and speaks.

She seems to be in intoxicated, slurring words and displaying a lack of coordination usually indicative of inebriation.

"Hey Rosey, hic."

"Dave said you were at some pace called Pigfarts teaching occolt majyyks and stuff."

Every eye in the hall was glued to the recording of the women as she continued to slur her words drunkenly. _Pigfarts_!? Did she mean Hogwarts?

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><p><strong>AN: It occurred to me as I was thinking about where exactly this story was going to be set along the Homestuck timeline, that Homestuck operates across multiple timelines at once. So I've decided that the time of this story is somewhat irrelevant and like Karkat's memos interactions might come from characters at all points across the story. <strong>

**For the purpose of this story Roxy is capable of using fenestrated walls as conduits for pesterchum and to send pre-recorded messages – in a similar manner to the memo's except in the form of video and audio instead of text and image attachments. It seemed to fit considering Roxy's affinity for them and her void powers.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hope everyone had a wonderful 12 perigee's eve and New years. Had a lot of fun in Japan but I'm back home now. **

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><p>.<p>

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After the incident with Roxy's message via fenestrated wall Rose Lalonde was the matter on everybody's mind. Everyone was talking about professor Lalonde's strange message. Who was the woman in the message? Was she related to the professor somehow, they looked like it? What was that strange contraption that the appeared bearing the message? Everybody wanted to know.

Severus Snape was currently engaging in his old past time of lurking in the shadows and listening in on the conversations of others.

He seemed to do a lot of that where Hogwarts Divination teachers were involved he noted idly.

Potter and his idiot friends were in the library discussing professor Lalonde and the message everyone had seen.

All agreed that there was something different about Rose Lalonde, something strange, something unusual. The mysterious message had only added to the questions they had about the one the ghost's referred to as the '_Seer of Light'_.

Taking a moment to focus on their conversation he came closer.

Granger was chattering on like usual, "I wonder who that woman was, the one from the message, she looked like she was related to the professor."

The Weasley simply shrugged his shoulders, "Dunno maybe they're sisters or something."

I guess," her mind seemed to drift, "I wonder what that thing she used to send her message was and how it just appeared like that."

She frowned as the others merely shrugged. Smart girl, she reminded him of Lily, though they'd both had poor choice in friends; Lily with him and Granger with Potter and that gormless Weasley.

Seeing an opportunity as they paused in their conversation he swooped in catching them off guard, "and just what do we have here?"  
>"Discussing professors Potter? 20 points from Gryffindor for talking about a teacher behind their back."<br>Taking points from Potter's spawn never lost its sweetness no matter how many times he did it, the insolent brat even had the nerve to scowl up at him. But those eyes, oh lily's eyes. Her eyes and Potter's face a bitter reminder of his mistakes.

It was with effort he tore he eyes from the sight of those green orbs to sneer down at the rest of them.

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	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Enjoy **

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><p>.<p>

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Since Snape had interrupted them they'd moved their conversation to the common room still smarting from the loss of points.

They'd spent the trip back up to the tower grumbling about Snape's unfairness before getting back to the matter at hand and discussing the woman in the message.

She'd rambled on, most of what she was saying not making much sense, the bits that were coherent anyway – she'd had to repeat herself several times when her speech became particularly impaired by the alcohol flowing through her.

Apart from mistakenly calling Hogwarts Pigfarts and Dumbledore Rumbleroar the woman had regaled what had almost had to be the entirety of the castle with a plethora of rather creative swear words accompanied with a rather funny impression of someone named Karkat courtesy of a message he'd given to the anonymous 'Dave' to pass on who had then passed the message onto the woman – Roxy as she had called herself when retelling the whole tale. They had never seen Professor McGonagall look so mortified as she did then at the words, "shitdicking assfairy."

Karkat's vitriol had not it turned out been entirely unwarranted as it turned out, nor Roxy's drunkenness. After the incomprehensible mentions of penis ouijas and cod piece wearing juggalos the recording entered darker territory, the speaker collapsing into herself with tear filled eyes. Following the previously considerably lighter tone of the message came grim news of deaths. There were a lot of them and Roxy described them in gruesome detail drinking and crying all the while.

She ended the message with a haunted look on her face and a tear filled smile, "I don't know when you'll get this, I'm having Dave send it through time at random – hopefully it'll stop English from being able to use it to hunt us."

As the recording ended the hall had been filled with silence.

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	6. Chapter 6

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Rose Lalonde was a most curious individual.

Her mysterious message had caused quite the stir amongst the students and staff.  
>The aged Headmaster remembered vividly his first meeting with her.<p>

Walking back to his office from a late staff meeting he'd been contemplating who to hire for the post of divination teacher when that ministry toad inevitably sacked poor Sybil, lest she be replaced with another ministry crony.

Passing the gargoyle that guarded the entrance and ascending the slowly ascending circular staircase, he was startled to see a faint light shining out from the underneath the closed door to his office. The light illuminating the hallway. He was sure he'd doused all the lights before he left and he knew it was almost impossible for anyone to enter without his permission and certainly the castle wards would have alerted him to any intruder trying to sneak in. Much more awake now than he was a minute ago, Albus Dumbledore straightened up wand in hand at his side.

Opening the door without a sound, he found that the entrance to the room as he'd left it.

Curiously the light didn't seem to be man made in nature; defiantly not the result of flickering candles or oil lamps which he might have forgotten to put out. Instead, it was more like the rays of an afternoon sun, lacking only the accompanying warmth. Another oddity was its brightness - it was no dimmer or brighter now than it was in the hallway, and its reach extended only to him. The bookshelves around him were still draped in shadow, but the path ahead was clear.

Perhaps the work of a spell of some kind he mused to himself?

Continuing forward into the room he came to a stop at sudden presence of another person.

He allowed himself to relax somewhat at the lack of obvious malevolence she exuded.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," the girl spoke from the comfortable armchair he sometime liked to read in where she lounged with languorous grace. A pale hand tucked a lock of jaw-length pale silk hair behind an ear while the other closed the thick tome she'd been reading and set it on the table beside her. Not a single lit lamp or candle was in sight, but the gentle light almost seemed to envelop the room.

Her clothing was not the typical garb of most witches or muggles, perhaps more in line with something he might normally wear if he were a female; a short-sleeved orange gold dress long and flowing slit on each side to reveal orange leggings and an odd curling hood that fell down her back. On her chest was displayed prominently was a symbol, a yellow sun with wavy tendrils. Dainty blue shoes covered her feet, the blue a startling contrast to the prevalent orange and gold.

Startling lavender eyes peered from a face framed artfully with pale blond hair, lips boldly painted black.

Overall, she didn't look like she could be much older than twenty, but despite her youthful looks he had trouble pinning her age.

Bringing himself out of his musings lest he be rude, even if the one he addressed had appeared uninvited within his office, he listened as she finished before returned her greeting.

"I offer my apologies for the unexpected visit, but I am afraid that this is something that is required to happen sooner rather than later, you see I wish to apply for the soon to be vacated position of Divination Professor ."

Contemplating what had just been said he lowered himself down at his desk gazing at her over the rims of his glasses, "you seem to have me at a disadvantage my dear, you know my name but I do not know yours, and if I may ask how is it you know of the soon to be unfortunate sacking of Hogwart's current professor for the subject?"

Her eyes conveyed perfect sincerity, "ah how rude of me, you must forgive me, my name is Rose Lalonde and I am a seer."

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><p><strong>AN: What should Rose's boggart be? It'll be showing up later in the story, so review with your thoughts and ideas. <strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**An: I've got a soft spot for Spider8reath**

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><p>.<p>

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Professor Lalonde has more visitors.

Just as strange as the last.

This time she's talking to two ghosts a boy and a girl. Hermione recognized them from the professor's boggart.

They seem more solid than the one's around Hogwarts.

You could have almost mistaken them for the living but their eyes were a hollow, blank white, and they share the normal ghosts ethereal, not quite there presence.

It was disquieting to say the least.

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They're not truly in the room.

It was a curious marvel of magic, when she'd asked the professor about the strange glowing blue bubble that now filled her room she'd muttered with a sad put upon look, something about dream bubbles and Aradia-Jade space-time shenanigans.

Everyone else Hermione asked had been just as baffled as to what dream bubbles were as her, or who the two names she mentioned belonged to.

She has a niggling feeling they were perhaps part of those who had featured in the professor's boggart.

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The boy is named John and the girl is name Vriska.

They dress in strange clothes that resemble what the professor wore the night of Trelawney's sacking, when she first appeared out of the night mist.

John's clothes are blue and relatively normal looking in design with the exception of the long windsock styled hood.

With black hair and pale skin he has an overbite that does not detract from his appearance but is noticeable if one looks.

Like the others he has a symbol displayed across his chest, a stylized current of air.

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The girl's is almost identical to the one professor Lalonde sometimes wears, though it is in a different style and cut.

The sun like symbol that Hermione feels is important somehow, too is splayed proudly across her chest, though her outfit has the strange addition of large fairy like wings.

Perhaps most curiously is that she is most definitely not human.

She had two oddly tipped horns and grey skin.

Her lips like the professor's are black though hers appear natural, barely visible through the blue she paints them.

Her long hair too is black, and she has fangs which are visible when she opens her mouth.

The boy though is or at least was human, or at least whatever Rose is. She looked human, and she acted human, and all of her mannerisms seemed human, but if 'human' was a rung on the evolutionary ladder, she was one above that.

Vriska seems to share the same quality but with her obvious non-humanness it's slightly harder to tell.

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While Rose exudes an air of mystery, occult mysticism and knowledge terrible and forbidden, John feels mischievous almost playful, free and unrestrained in his exuberance.

If Rose is Light then John is the wind.

Vriska is harder to pin down. There is a distinctly spidery feel about her. Dangerous and unpredictable like lady luck, and also like luck she can be tempered by things other than random chance. In Vriska's case John seems to act as her counterbalance grounding her.

After all it never hurts to blow on the dice.

Yes.

Vriska is an unpredictable chance, the flipping of a coin, the rolling of dice.

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She and the boy are something called Matespirits.

Hermione thinks that it sounds like lovers but something... more. You can't quite describe it but she just knows.

They are very in love.

She can tell.

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><p><strong>An: The boggart will feature next chapter and will be set chronologically before this chapter. You can consider this the probable limit of my decidedly un-Hussy like talent for time shenanigans.<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

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Professor Lalonde is leaving the Great Hall when it happens.

A second year is carrying a magically lightened trunk for professor Snape. It is the one he uses to store the boggart he uses for the third year students.

Not paying attention the second year's foot goes through one of the trick stairs and the box goes tumbling from his hands.

It bounces down the stairs before falling open at the professor's feet.

All at once a great shadowy mass springs forth from box's confines twisting and churning in agitation brought on by the rough treatment before seeming to focus on professor Lalonde.

Boggarts do not take kindly to being hurdled down several flights of stairs in a cramped box and this one is particularly vicious.

From the trunk bursts forth the great undulating tentacles of some unspeakable monstrosity and from them is berthed a figure.

She is bound in chains and screaming.

Never before and never again will those who experience it witness so terrible a sound.

It claws at their ears and tears at their minds so full is it of anguish.

The woman screams and screams and screams.

And Rose watches on frozen.

And then it stops and jade blood begins to run from every orifice of the beautiful horned woman with black lips and glowing grey skin.

Blood of all colours begins to seep from the ground and forms a mountain of corpses surrounding the chained woman as a girl steps forth from the tentacles still sprouting from the trunk to lovingly wrap herself around the bleeding woman.

It is another Rose Lalonde, younger and wreathed in a shadowy luminescence, grey skinned, hair and eyes glowing white.

She stands atop the mountain of corpses holding the now decidedly dead corpse like a lover.

Rose Lalonde it appears, fears herself.

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><p><strong>AN: Eternity alone with the horror of being responsible for the deaths of everyone you knew or loved. Made infinitely more unbearable by being Grimdark, an uncontrollable and horrifying process described as going 'completely off the deep end in every way'.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

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Everyone is talking about the boggart.

Talking about Rose Lalonde. Not that that's any different from normal.

Who were those people? Who was that woman whose body the professor had held so lovingly?

These questions and so many more were on the minds and lips of every student and every teacher.

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And then after a month has passed Rose Lalonde once more receives mysterious visitors and there are more whispers and theories to be had.

The mystery of Rose Lalonde only grows.

No one knows, everyone is intrigued.

It has always been this way.

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For Hermione Granger her admiration of the loquacious woman does not dull.

Nor does her curiosity.

She marvels at her, delights in her knowledge and intellect.

Appreciates and revels in the mysteries she holds.

But as much as she enjoys the chase she desires answers.

She researches but finds nothing from traditional books and records and precious little from less conventional sources.

Only the ghosts know something but they are vague and speak in unintentional riddles incomprehensible without a point of reference.

Of the staff most seem to know no more than her.

She even goes so far as to arrange a meeting with professor Dumbledore but he confesses to being as woefully in the dark as she.

Never before has a woman so fascinated her.

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	10. Chapter 10

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There is a girl talking to one of the ghosts.

Harry hasn't seen her before and he thinks he would have remembered someone like her. She's incredibly distinctive looking, all black hair and grey skin. But it's not this or her strange garb and naturally occurring ram horns that make her memorable, no he's seen the like, unusual as it is, in the ghostly visitors of and terrible boggart imaginings of professor Lalonde. No what sets her apart is the 'feel' about her.

All of the professor's friends are distinct in a way no normal person is, like gods or spirits constructed of feelings, impressions, ideas and metaphysical and elemental alignments.

John was free and unrestrained like the wind.

Vriska was dangerous, unpredictable chance.

This girl though.

Her feel, it is distinctly dead.

She feels like a ghost, ethereal, unnatural and undeniably dead. She looks like corpse risen from the dead and her long skirt is faded and torn.

But there is something else there.

Another flavour.

Time.

The ticking of the clock.

The inevitability of mortality.

Time is everywhere you can't outrun it, for it is already there.

You're born already dead.

Her presence screams the futility of existence and the promise of something after.

All of this he takes in a moment as they materialize out of the dim light of the poorly lit corridor.

Drawing nearer he could make out the ends of their conversation.

"-no trouble at all it's an honour to have been of service to such an estimed being as yourself." "The Seer was most elated by your assistance in the passage of the spirits of her friends ," Sir Nicholas' words were accompanied by much bowing and scraping as if before a venerated deity, his head wobbling precariously.

"My thanks."

She disappeared as a giant red cog like clock symbol lit up around her and her clothes changed inexplicably to one of those sets that the professor and her associates wore. This one red with a strange trailing tailed sort of cut adorned with the symbol of a cog.

Her eyes met his for a fleeting moment as she turned her head to look at him before being consumed by the whirling red symbols and light.

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	11. Chapter 11

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When they enter class they're meet by the sight of a large yellow Salamander wearing a ridiculous black robe and purple scarf that still managed to somehow give off the feel of powerful dark magic like the creature was some sort of powerful dark wizard a rather insane notion.

Professor Lalonde seems utterly unperturbed by the salamander's presence.

Hermione who has been sitting in on the professor's divination classes tentatively raises her hand. "Um professor, why is there a... salamander, here?."

"This is Casey or Viceroy Bubbles Von Salamancer."The professor introduces. "She's the daughter of one of my friends and my onetime faithful student; she'll be staying with me for awhile."

"Glub," goes the creature or rather, Viceroy Bubbles Von Salamancer.

The class merely sits in stunned silence until Lalonde begins the lesson.

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Viceroy Bubbles Von Salamancer as it turns out is a powerful magic user and learner of arts most esoteric and varied.

Later when the students enter the Great Hall for lunch it is to find professor Dumbledore having an involved conversation with the creature.

Professor McGonagall watches on looking like she's beginning to develop a headache as they 'talk,' the salamander glubbing away while Dumbledore motions with his arms vigorously waving them about.

Her lips are a thin line wearing an expression that suggests she's just taken a bite out of a lemon.

The headmaster's eccentricities seemed to be finally becoming too much for her to take, while the rest of the staff watch on with varying levels of amusement.

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><p><strong>An: Review with who else should show up later down the story. Even better if you can think of some scenarios where it might happen.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**An: I've got a poll for this story on my profile that'll hopefully give me a little insight into what people are enjoying the most, so check it out quickly if you have the time and inclination. **

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><p>.<p>

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Casey or as she sometimes went Viceroy Bubbles Von Salamancer was enjoyable company and a fascinating conversationalist.

Judicious use of esoteric enchantments he'd placed on himself throughout the course of his life combined with years of dealing with non humans in his many political roles allowed him to understand the salamander's speech clear as day.

She had an extraordinary mind and such wonderful tales of her village and journeys following her father and his friends.

From what she told him he gathered her father was the tragically deceased boy in blue who had visited Rose along with the strange horned girl. What was that word that been used to describe them? Ah yes matespirits. It was a curious word, but then they were a curious couple, for that was what the word denoted he was sure.

He did love a good puzzle and their enigmatic divination teacher seemed to love creating intrigue just as much as he loved unravelling it.

His eyes twinkled madly as he thought about the odd games they played, he trying to unravel her mysteries while she tantalized him with the unusual phenomena that surrounded her and vague words that contained hidden meanings for him to find out.

She would make a marvellous politician if she had the inclination, she played the game well.

Sadly she didn't seem interested in the least not that he could blame her, her acceptance of non humans if her deceased friends and from the look of that boggart – lover were anything to go by, would have been a welcome change.

They were rather alike he mused; both of them like speaking cryptically for as the younger generation put it 'for kicks', they also shared a fascination for magic and possessed a great talent for it that went beyond then norm. Both shared a belief in the equality of muggleborns, half breeds and creatures, she also – if her bright orange dress was to be believed shared his liking for fanciful clothes and judging from her truly impressive vocabulary and the strange tombs he sometimes glimpsed her reading a love of books. Perhaps most importantly she seemed to enjoy comfortable socks and unusual candies things his colleagues wouldn't touch.

Bringing his wand to his temple he extracted his memories of her to examine in the pensieve.

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><p><strong>An: Dumbledore will always be one of my favourite characters so I'll be throwing in his perspective every now and again. Which peoples perspectives do you like the most, review with yours.<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**An: Apparently people enjoyed Rose's' perspective' so this chapter contains some. I also tried my hand at adding some meta and mind twisting thoughts similar to the ones sometimes projected into the characters heads by others.**

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><p>.<p>

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You are once again Rose Lalonde, professor of divination at Hogwarts. Without getting too meta a lot of weird shit has been happening in the last couple of chapters, almost like the unseen creator's been screwing around with your life for kicks, but that's crazy.

So here you sit sipping a nice relaxing cup of tea with your employer.

Or rather you sit sipping a relaxing cup of tea with your employer while your employer watches, this is after all a memory.

Oh that stuff about getting meta? Looks like you were wrong. Thankfully he's only watching this memory of the two of you drinking a relaxing cup of tea and not watching a memory of watching a memory of the two of you dinking a relaxing cup of tea.

Now that would be really meta!

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You are now Albus Dumbledore and you neither think nor talk in third person, or second person, or any person other than what someone would be expected to think in. You might be called crazy by your detractors but your not _that_ crazy.

Stroking his beard he searched through more pertinent memories while he waited for his guest to arrive.

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Rose Lalonde divination teacher at Hogwarts knocked on the Headmaster's door and receiving an answering call of, "come in," entered.

To an outsider it might seem as Rose perceiving herself in a person other than first, but Rose Lalonde in fact did not. Such an assumption would in fact be erroneous as she isn't crazy despite her at times rather questionable sanity, questionable sanity, apparent at times of Grimdark possession.

If one does not perceive time linearly and in fact views it as occurring simultaneously all at once would say that Rose Lalonde was crazy. Meaning that Rose Lalonde is crazy as she has been undeniably so in what others might perceive as 'the past' when possessed by horror terrors, or rather the non lineal now. Thankfully Rose Lalonde nor anyone who might be hearing these very – some would almost say 'crazy' thoughts perceives time as anything but linearly so she is therefore not currently out of her mind, literally.

Shaking away the strange thoughts that had inexplicably entered her head Rose took a seat.

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He'd invited her for tea and conversation, again. It was a habit they'd stuck up. Perhaps this time he might be able to get her to divulge some more tantalising tidbits. Battling wits and trading carefully concealed verbal barbs.

Carefully pouring her a cup of tea he peered over his glasses at her before sitting himself down.

"So, your brother?"

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><p><strong>An: Next chapter Dave! The Knight of Time appears.<strong>


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